


Skipped Lunch, I'm Shrunk

by hazelandglasz



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Magic, Shrinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 07:37:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13542753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: Anonymous prompt :Klaine, i was shrunk to 4 inches tall by a witch and now i kinda live in your kitchen without you knowing au - I know it sounds creepy but I guess if anyone can make it be cute instead, that would be you. :)





	Skipped Lunch, I'm Shrunk

**Author's Note:**

> We got used to the pocket!Blaine storylines, let’s shrunk Kurt for a change 

“And here he goes,” Kurt tells Lorant as they sip on their cranberry juice. “Looking as dreamy as ever.”

Lorant nods.

“I know, I know,” Kurt replies to the unsaid comment, “I should let him know that I, I exist, but what’s the point?”

“…”

“Stop it, I’m not depreciating myself, I just—I know I don’t have much to offer right now.”

They both turn to look at Blaine as he throws his shirt over the couch in the heat of his silent choreography, and Kurt sighs into his drink.

It’s not creepy.

… Okay, maybe it is a little bit creepy, but it’s not like Kurt is spying on his roommate on purpose. They just live together, and Blaine is visually appealing.

So okay, maybe Blaine doesn’t know that he has a roommate.

Maybe.

And maybe Kurt is not exactly a roommate, and more like a … visitor.

A little visitor.

A four-inches tall squatter who had to make a home for himself in his neighbour’s apartment because he couldn’t find a way to get back in his own place after a dejected suitor decided to curse him for rejecting him. Because witchcraft is a thing apparently.

Maybe.

It’s not easy, being a Thumbelino, but at least he’s not completely alone in this adventure, thanks to Lorant’s friendship, and he managed to find clothes.

Sort of.

A Power Ranger’s doll’s costume. He makes it work, if he may say so himself.

“Oh God,” Kurt moans to himself as the thought forms in his head.

He’s found companionship in an ant, and he is dressed like an action figure.

How low can he get?

“Hello? Is there somebody in here?”

Shit, shit, fuck.

Blaine frowns, looking around the room. For a brief moment, his eyes land on Kurt’s spot—second shelf, between the peppercorns and the “fleur de sel”—before he shrugs it off and returns to his dancing, bless his heart.

A choreography involving a copious amount of hip shaking.

Bless. Blaine. Be.

Kurt sighs and finishes his thimble of juice before starting to climb down to the sink. If he doesn’t want to attract more of Lorant to his domain, he absolutely has to keep a perfect hygiene.

A drop of water falls from the faucet and he uses it to clean his thimble.

“What.”

Kurt freezes.

“Are y—what is—what?”

Slowly, carefully, Kurt turns his head toward Blaine.

Blaine whose eyes are so wide they seem to be ready to pop out of his head and whose mouth is wide open.

Ah, so there is a circumstance in which Blaine is not as attractive as usual.

“Hello.”

Kurt only wanted to be polite, but Blaine’s reaction gives him an eternity of regret.

His scream is enough to make Kurt’s eardrums ring and he nearly falls into the sink at the strength of it.

“Oh my God, here, don’t fall,” Blaine says, a shiver in his voice as he saves Kurt from exploding on the surface of it. “I’m holding you in my hand so I’m not dreaming this, here you go, you’re a human, a r-real human, except, except you—you are—”

“Four inches tall, yeah. Usually, though, I’m closer to 5”10.”

“Usually?”

“Long story.”

Blaine cocks one eyebrow at Kurt. “I bet.”

“I was cursed by a witch, okay? Some lunatic with a big crush and too much power on his hands.”

Blaine’s eyebrows reach for his hairline as the story unfolds, but he frowns at the conclusion. “A guy you refused to date cursed you to be four inches tall and live in my cupboards?”

Kurt can feel his face heat up. “Um, no, no. Just the four inches part.”

“Sooo, how did you end up freeloading here?”

Kurt would gladly take the fall into the sink now, please. “I rent the apartment at the end of the floor, 8C? And when I realized which size I was, I couldn’t get back to the safety of my own place until the curse is lifted. And then, _you_ came home, opened your door and I—”

“Seized the opportunity,” Blaine concludes.

“You’re handling all of this remarkably well.”

“Oh, no, I’m half convinced that you are the product of my over active imagination meeting the not so fresh tamales I had for lunch, and that you will be gone in the morning.”

“O-okay?”

“But if you are a product of my imagination, this situation has all the ingredients for a good script, and I might as well use the illusion until it passes.”

“Ah.”

“That being said …”

“Uh-oh.”

“You do look like the guy from 8C.”

“Well, I do look like me, yeah.”

“But, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve imagining him—you—being here with me.”

Kurt stops drilling holes into the counter to stare at Blaine. “Beg your pardon?!”

This cannot be.

Sure, he had a crush on Blaine long before he invaded his apartment.

As a matter of fact, Kurt started daydreaming about his neighbour the day he moved into the building and Blaine benevolently showed him around the building and the neighbourhood.

Ah, his gentle teasing of Kurt being the “new kid” with a pat to his shoulder …

Good times.

But living with Blaine has only increased this crush, to the point where Kurt doodled their names in a heart of strawberry jam.

Blaine cannot reciprocate. That’s just not how Kurt’s life goes. No, Kurt crushes on unattainable guys and attracts revengeful witches.

Just before Nikolai cursed him, Kurt was very close to settling for a life without romance.

Does this mean that he could have had a romance with his cute neighbour all this freaking time??

“Guess the tiny cat is out of the tiny bag,” Blaine says, chuckling embarrassedly as she rubs his hand on the back of his neck.

“Which doesn’t matter since I’m not real?”

Blaine squats so his eyes are levelled with Kurt’s. “You do matter. Even if you’re not real.”

Kurt reaches for Blaine’s cheek and presses his hand into it. “Can you hold that thought until I return to my normal self?”

“How long has it been already?”

“Two days?”

“O-okay. How long do you think it will be?”

Kurt sighs, and he does not focus on the way it makes Blaine’s long eyelashes flutter.

Absolutely not.

“I don’t know.”

Blaine straightens up and offers his palm to Kurt, who quickly climbs aboard. “Tell you what,” Blaine says softly as he returns to his living room and gently settles on the couch, “let me sleep on all of this …,” he pauses, mimicking an explosion near his temple, “and then, if you’re still you and here in the morning, we’ll decide on a plan.”

Kurt pulls his legs against his chest and leans his chin on top of his knees. “A plan?”

“Either to find the man who cursed you, or do some research to see how long it will last.”

Kurt lifts his head to look at Blaine. “Why do you care?”

Blaine smiles gently and scoots closer to Kurt. “I care about having a chance to actually meet you, the real you, to tell you that meeting you has changed me, in a way I’m pretty sure has inspired love songs and romantic comedies since the dawn of time. I care, Kurt, because I saw you and it was the most natural thing in the world to take your hand and show you around.”

“Why—why didn’t you say something? Before?”

Blaine chuckles and brushes his hand against the stray curls escaping his gel embarrassedly. “I don’t know if you’ve seen yourself, but you cut quite a striking figure, even when you pick up your mail,” he tells Kurt without looking at him. “My intimidated self trumped my crushed one.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. We’ve lost some time, haven’t we?”

“Yeah. So stupid.”

“But it’s not too late,” Blaine adds, a new hope in his eyes. “First, let me wake up without being gone.”

“I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

_And I never want to say goodbye, so._

“I know you wouldn’t.”

“Good night, Kurt—speaking of which, where have you slept for the past two days?”

Kurt blushes. “I slept in one of your gloves you left in the kitchen.”

“Ah! I knew I didn’t lose it.”

“Sorry?”

“That’s fine, at least you weren’t cold,” Blaine says, voice soft and warm. “Good night, Kurt.”

“Good night, Blaine.”

With one last look to Kurt, Blaine shakes his head and disappears in his bedroom.

Kurt doesn’t know when he fell asleep, or how, with all that excitement, but the first sunray does hit him in the face.

“I didn’t close the cupboard’s door?” he mutters to himself, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Maybe you did, but my cupboard is gone.”

Kurt startles and looks towards Blaine, who is standing in his tank top and yoga pants and gaping at him like a fish.

A very attractive fish, but a fish nonetheless.

A fish that doesn’t seem as big as he did the previous day.

“And you’re real.”

“What.”

“And you’re back to your normal size.”

“What?”

“And you’re naked, oh my God.”

“What?!”

“Here,” Blaine says, one hand covering his eyes and the other throwing a coat at Kurt.

Kurt pulls on the coat—God, it feels so good to be out of the Power Ranger costume he “borrowed” when he got turned—and glances at Blaine.

Who seems very busy observing the specks of dust floating in the sunlight.

“All clear,” Kurt says, reaching with the tip of his fingers for Blaine’s arm.

Blaine takes a deep breath and turns to look at him. His eyes search Kurt’s before sweeping down his now thankfully covered body.

His lips stretch into a beaming smile, and Blaine’s hand cups Kurt’s cheek. “There you are.”


End file.
